


A Match (Sort of) Made in Heaven

by who_la_hoop



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: AU, Community: 7thnight_smut, IN SPACE!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_la_hoop/pseuds/who_la_hoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His Supreme Royal Highness, the thirty-first King of New Shangri-La and the direct link to God – or Princess, as Gojyo calls him when he's not in earshot – has gone missing on the most important holy night of the year. And unfortunately for his reluctant servant, people seem to think it's his job to get him back . . . (Sanzo/Goku, with a little Gojyo/Hakkai)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Match (Sort of) Made in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesofshinigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/gifts).



> Written for the 2010 7thnight_smut AU challenge. Eyesofshinigami asked for Sanzo/Goku in space. ♥

_Why'd you think I'm in here, Sanzo?_

 _Hmm?_

 _I dunno . . . It's just . . ._

 _Either spit it out, or shut the hell up. You're giving me a headache, idiot monkey._

 _Aww, don't get mad, Sanzo. I just wish I had some company, you know? I thought I was going mad before . . . before . . ._

 _Before you managed to get into my head, causing me massive irritation on a near-constant basis?_

 _Yeah. I mean, no! I don't mean to! I tried to be quiet, to not speak . . . But . . . You said that was worse._

 _Shut up, monkey._

 _Sorry, Sanzo._

 _Is that being quiet?_

 _'M really sorry, Sanzo . . ._

 _Tch. Idiot._

* * *

It was nearly evening – that perfect moment when the light fades and casts eerie, purplish shadows on everything it touches. Hundreds, thousands of candles flickered in a sudden, light gust of wind, as if touched by the breath of a quiet god. It was the sort of moment when calm reigned supreme. When the beings of New Shangri-La knew that the veil between their own world and the next flickered, like a transparent curtain, and all was quiet and holy and . . .

"Noooooooo!"

"Your Holiness? Your Supreme Royal Hoooooo–liness! "

"Your Excellency! Where are you, Your Excellency?!"

"The ceremony—"

"The hour is almost upon us—!"

"Where can he be? Where is our king? Oh woe! Oh calamity!"

Gojyo managed to get in two or three rolls of his eyes in the gloom of the courtyard before someone spotted him.

"Sir! It is terrible! We have lost— Misplaced— His Supreme Royal Holiness cannot be found! And on this night of all nights! Oh woe! Oh woe!"

It took Gojyo a little while to realise that instead of one or two pissed off, anxious dudes staring at him, wanting him to fix things, there were . . . a lot of pissed off, anxious dudes. And they were all congregating around him, fixing him with their beady, pissed off, anxious eyes and . . . starting to look less as if they wanted his help, and more as if they wanted to pin the blame on him.

"Why did you not keep a better eye on His Supreme Royal Holiness?" one began.

The words 'well, you know what he's like' threatened to slip out, but Gojyo managed to stop himself before it was too late. Hell, the king's followers might not have the first idea about violence, but a mob was a mob, and he didn't like the idea of being prodded to death by accusing fingers.

"You are his bodyguard, are you not?" one said.

"Yes! This is your fault!"

"Is our king in danger?"

"You should—"

 _Screw you_ , thought Gojyo, wrinkling his nose and tuning them out. _As if a king that needs a babysitter is worth anything. Have a little faith in our Grand High Motherfucker, why don'tcha?_ He wondered, briefly, if he could be bothered to get out a cigarette and blow smoke rings in the face of the most irritating of them – a hard choice, but he'd all but decided on the bastard who kept saying, "Oh woe!" as if he was in some kind of fucking historical holo-novel – but decided against it. The consequences would be too much bother; he'd already been demoted from Commander of the entire army and the king's right-hand man, for losing his temper, (amongst other – and in his opinion ridiculously minor – things) to . . . just the king's right-hand man. Sort of. It was an unofficial job description, but it stopped Gojyo from feeling quite so pissed off about being fired, as well as – admittedly – giving him a lot more time just to piss about, rather than conducting endless drills. Discipline had never been his forte – a word he'd learned from Hakkai, another ex-Army man who was sort of the king's _left_ -hand man.

Being the king's right-hand man, when you didn't even know where the fuck the hand was, half the time, though, was a bit of a pain in the proverbial. Gojyo snorted; if the Grand High Loser ever got the broom handle out of his ass and condescended to talk to some ladies, maybe he'd have to use his right-hand a lot less. Not that Gojyo knew a hell of a lot about his personal commander's wank habits – and no way did he want to know. Just, His Excellency was so uptight, especially lately, that Gojyo wouldn't have been surprised if he never did it.

Of course, if Gojyo said anything, he'd get a phaser pointed at his crotch – and the little fucker would have no compunction against firing the thing, and then watching with disinterest while Gojyo writhed in silent manly pain – so on the whole, he thought, let the idiot die of a sperm backup, see if he cared.

But right now, the fact that His Excellency was a jerk-off, in all senses except the literal, didn't help him much. Particularly as when he complained later – he knew he would; he couldn't _stop_ himself from running his mouth most of the time – His Supreme Royal Pain-in-the-Ass would just fix him with a cool look, raise one thin, perfect eyebrow and say, "So?"

And Gojyo wasn't allowed to hit him, however much he wanted to. If he tried, that bastard Hakkai would stop him. Besides, it didn't help him to know that – ex-Commander or not – if he tried to hit His Excellency, the blond princess would probably have shot his kneecaps off – with the energy gun he definitely wasn't supposed to carry, being a holy man, and royalty, and all – before he'd got within touching-distance.

"Oh woe! Oh woe! For our king has been abducted and his trusted servant takes no action! Oh w—"

"All _right_ ," Gojyo said, cutting the speaker off before his urge to cut his head off grew too strong. "All _right_." Besides, the courtyard was now seventy-five percent full of courtiers and disciples – and it was only a matter of time before one of them tripped over a ceremonial candle and set themselves on fire. Gojyo's self-control, never particularly good to begin with, would never stand up against the sight of a flaming courtier. He'd laugh – and he'd never hear the end of it. "I'll go and find him."

Hakkai'd know where he was, Gojyo thought. Besides, Hakkai had an unerring talent for finding a nice, quiet spot, free from morons, where a man could have a smoke in peace. Smoking was forbidden in the castle, thanks to ancient and unbreakable custom – which meant that any courtier or disciple unlucky enough to turn a quiet corner and catch His Royal Pain in the act had to choose between ignoring the king (treason) or seeing the king as fallible (possibly also treason). An amazingly large part of Gojyo's job seemed to consist of leaping in front of the king at moments such as these, giving the unfortunate witness the opportunity to flee and also sparing the king's blushes – not that he ever blushed. Occasionally Gojyo wondered if he actually had blood, or instead – more likely – battery acid.

"Well, go on then!" said someone. A female someone, Gojyo noticed. All teeth and chin. "Stop mooning about and rescue the king! The hour is almost upon us!"

Hah! Rescue the princess! Still, it would be bad if Princess missed his appointment with God; it would piss people off and, more importantly, _he_ might get the blame. "Madam, you can rely on me," he said and walked off double-time before anyone could wisecrack that ‘thousands wouldn't'.

Once beyond the courtyard walls, Gojyo wondered where the hell Princess actually _was_. Or Hakkai, come to think of it. He scratched his chin – and remembered that he'd meant to shave, but had taken one look at the cut-throat razor Hakkai had thoughtfully set out for him that morning and had decided to give it a miss. Blades that close to his throat made him nervous, even if it was his own hand doing the wielding – he'd wait until tomorrow, when they un-holied the place up and switched the fucking power back on.

Apparently, holiness, sacred ritual and energy didn't mix. Even Princess himself – who was, traditionally, as the most holy, sacred man on the planet, supposed to shun such things at all times, (though like _fuck_ he did, and didn't care who knew it, either) – even _he_ wouldn't dare break such a taboo on such a holy night.

Gojyo considered that for a bit. Then, quietly, he made his way through the flickering shadows of the palace grounds and out into the transport bay, tucked to one side, where the royal fleet of ships beeped and hummed quietly. Tradition was tradition – but the king's life was more important than anything, even that. So what if the planet had been at peace for decades now? If they were attacked, they'd need a ship to get the king the hell out of there – and no one wanted to sit twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the ships to come online, while bombs dropped on everyone's favourite blondie.

Yeah. Tradition was tradition, but they hadn't even _had_ space travel in the days when tradition had begun. Hell, Gojyo thought as he swiped his ID card, and allowed his finger to be used as a pincushion – fucking DNA-checker – they probably hadn't even had _electricity_ back in those days. Which made the people _these_ days a bunch of morons, if they thought turning off the lights and dripping candle wax all over the place made them more respectful towards God.

The door slid open – and smoothly shut behind him – revealing the gleaming serried ranks of ships and the powerful pinprick lights of the launch pad and landing bay. And then Gojyo noticed two things simultaneously:

(1) Hakkai, leaning against a control panel – the picture of nonchalance – reading a book, and,

(2) the empty bay where the king's personal craft, the White Dragon, normally piloted by Hakkai, should have been.

"Ah, Gojyo," Hakkai said mildly, not even raising his head from his book as Gojyo gaped at him. "You took your time."

"B-b-b-b—" Gojyo spluttered. "Where the fuck is Princess this time? And why the hell didn't you stop the moron?"

"Now, now," Hakkai said, shutting his book and checking his wristwatch – he had a curious affection for obsolete technology, which sort of explained the monocle. Five minutes with an eye surgeon had fixed him up with a new eye, indistinguishable from his birth eye, after the accident. But the dude was pretentious enough – or self-conscious enough (who the fuck knew with Hakkai?) – to want to cover it up anyway.

"I know exactly where he'll be," Hakkai continued, "which is more than _you_ do." And he peered disapprovingly through the monocle at Gojyo.

Of course, Gojyo thought, it was perfectly possible that Hakkai, the bastard, just wore the monocle because he knew that it magnified his disapproving stare and had a curious effect both on Gojyo's knees and his self-confidence.

Gojyo rummaged around in his trouser pocket for his packet of smokes. "Where is he then, oh great one?" he mumbled through his cigarette, lighting up.

Hakkai looked at him even more disapprovingly. "Ah. Do you really think you should smoke in here? You do know what will happen if a flame touches just a drop of fuel?"

Gojyo took a deep drag. "Boom?"

Hakkai laughed faintly. "Indeed." He took another look at his watch. "Our lord and master should be back in, oh, about five seconds."

Gojyo snorted – and then nearly swallowed his cigarette when the royal ship landed. Though it wasn't so much landing as crashing; it would take some serious work before the bodywork of the small craft was shining and dent-free once more.

A blond head stuck its irate face out of the doorway. "Well, come on," it shouted. "I haven't got all day."

"Even when he's in the wrong, he's an asshole," Gojyo muttered.

Hakkai smiled, pushing away from the control panel he was leaning against and striding off towards the craft. It took Gojyo's brain a little while to catch up, and then he was running, before the dickhead could get mad. Tetchy was His Excellency's usual personality – sometimes it was fun to provoke him until he went from "tetchy" to "incandescent", but right now Gojyo wasn't in the mood for games.

"Don't forget to put out the cigarette," Hakkai said, as Gojyo panted up beside him and started to clamber in to the craft.

Gojyo dropped the cigarette, startled, and watched with interest and dread as it floated down and . . .

"Stop messing about, moron," Princess snapped, reaching over to catch the cigarette and stubbing it out on Gojyo's shirt. "We're wasting time."

"Where are we going?" Gojyo heard Hakkai ask, as he brushed ash off himself and flailed about a bit, before he realised that he hadn't actually sustained a flesh wound, just ruined yet another shirt.

"To kill him, before he sends me insane" came the tetchy – no, not tetchy, _incandescent_ , Gojyo realised with dismay – reply. Also, incomprehensible, Gojyo realised, as he slouched into a flight-chair and watched Hakkai settle the craft and set the controls, ready for take-off. But then incomprehensible tended to be His Excellency's stock in trade; he was sure Princess would spill, as soon as he was ready.

* * *

 _I'm booooooooooored. I've been bored for years and years and years and years and years and—_

 _Shut the hell up, or I'll shoot you!_

 _Aww, Sanzo, don't get mad. 'Sides how'd ya shoot me? It'd be awesome if you_ could _shoot me. That'd mean you'd found me and I could get out and have fun and feel the grass under my feet and just_ look _at stuff and . . . you know . . . look at_ you _and—_

 _SHUT UP!_

 _OK, OK, OK, you don't need to ask twice, I'll be quiet, I swear._

 _. . . . ._

 _. . . . ._

 _I can still hear you breathing, asshole. Can't you turn yourself off?_

 _Uh, I don't think so. Never tried. But . . . Here goes . . ._

 _Oh, for fuck's sake. I didn't say to stop breathing. If you drop dead before I get the chance to kill you myself, I'll never forgive you._

 _OK, Sanzo!!!_

 _No need to sound so pleased about it._

 _I just wish . . . You know. That you could come and get me . . . Sanzo? Are you still listening?_

 _Yes._

 _Yes what?_

 _Oh, for fuck's—_

 _Sorry, Sanzo._

Yes, _moron._ Yes, _I understand._ Yes, _I know. Now if you don't shut up, I'll have to shoot myself, so NOT ANOTHER WORD._

 _Yes, Sanzo. I mean— Oh, whoops. I'll shut up now. Don't shoot yourself! Sanzo? Sanzo, you still alive in there? Sanzoooooooo?_

* * *

"Why did you come back?" Hakkai asked mildly, when they were in the air.

Gojyo gazed down with interest at the people milling about below them, getting smaller and smaller as the craft rose higher. They had a pissed-off look about them, even from afar; he hoped it wasn't _his_ neck on the line when they got back. He was definitely prepared to say that Hakkai had made him do it; he just wasn't sure how many people would believe him.

His Supreme Royal Highness, the thirty-first King of New Shangri-La and the direct link to God, reached for a cigarette and shrugged. "Driving bores me," he said. "So I came back to make you two do it for me."

"You lazy motherfucker!" Gojyo said.

His Supreme Royal Highness, the thirty-first King of New Shangri-La and the direct link to God – His Excellency for short – glared at him. "You want a piece of me?"

" _Everybody_ wants a piece of you, moron!" Gojyo snapped back. "The constellations are lining up, this is the most sacred day of the century, and _you_ are meant to be down there right now, engaging in pointless, boring ritual for the delight and edification of your subjects. And if you're not down there in time, they'll blame _me_ ," he added, rather piteously.

"And?" His Royal Heartlessness said, lighting up and blowing a smoke ring that wafted right into Gojyo's face. It stunk; His Excellency had the worst taste in smokes.

"I hate you," Gojyo said with feeling. "I hope you—"

"Now, now," Hakkai interrupted smoothly. "What _is_ this all about, Your Excellency? And while I am happy to drive, where exactly am I driving _to_?"

"I don't know," His Excellency snapped, and rubbed his forehead with one free hand. "I'll know it when we get there," he clarified, unhelpfully. "Just . . . drive," he said, waving his cigarette about with no regard for the ash that fell on Gojyo's shoes.

Gojyo had a feeling this was going to be a long and terrible experience – but then just knowing His Excellency, who had sort of grown to be one of his most trusted friends, had turned out to be a long and terrible experience, so it was no surprise there. He'd just have to put up and shut up. Or at least try to.

* * *

 _I am His Supreme Royal Highness, the thirty-first King of New Shangri-La and the direct link to God._

 _Huh? You're what?_

 _I am His Supreme Royal Highness, the thirty-first King of New Shangri-La and the direct link to God._

 _That's . . . not really a name, is it? What do ya friends call you?_

 _Your Excellency._

 _That sucks. I mean, I don't have a name – at least, not one that I can remember – but at least I know I_ ought _to have one._

 _. . ._

 _I didn't make you mad again, did I?_

 _You don't have a name? Why the hell not?_

 _Well, it's not as if there's anyone else here to call me anything. I'd feel like an idiot if I talked to myself!_

 _Oh yes?_

 _Talkin' to you doesn't count. You're not imaginary, and neither am I. So it's a real conversation, even if it is only takin' place in our heads._

 _You don't need to tell_ me _that it's not imaginary. You think that I'd imagine anyone as annoying as you?_

 _Aww, I don't mean to be. I just like talking to you._

 _Monkey._

 _Uh, what?_

 _Monkey. That's what you remind me of – flinging shit around the inside of my brain until it's more yours than my own. A stupid, idiotic monkey._

 _Oh . . .!_

 _You got a problem with that, monkey?_

 _Wow. Wow! Oh wow! I don't remember anyone calling me_ anything _before. Thank you! Thank you so much! Will you call me that all the time? Please?_

 _It's just an insult. Don't make a big deal out of it. Now piss off; you're giving me a headache with your yapping._

 _Oh. I'm really sorry! I didn't—_

 _And it's Sanzo. Before I became ‘His Supreme Royal Highness' and all that – back when I was just a normal child, rather than the reincarnation of this holy shit I don't believe in – I was Sanzo._

 _Sanzo. Saaaaanzo. Sanzoooooooo._

 _What the hell are you—_

 _Just tryin' it out! Saaaaaaanzoooooooo!_

 _Shut the hell up!_

 _OK, Sanzo! Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo!_

 _Oh, for crying out loud, will you—_

 _SANZOOOOOOOOOO!_

 _SHUT THE HELL UP!_

* * *

Sanzo drummed his fingers on the armrest and tried not to chain-smoke a whole packet of smokes in under ten minutes. He only had one packet on him; if he ran out, he'd have to nick Gojyo's, and Gojyo's favourite brand smelled like burnt, wet dog. Besides, if he thought about the time, then he'd think about how it was running out – there was only an hour or two before the ceremony was due to begin. However much – quite frankly – he thought it was a load of bollocks, it would annoy him more to _not_ be there than it would to actually attend. Mostly because if he missed it, everyone would mope around for days and he didn't think his nerves could stand the strain. Besides, he had pretty strong ideas about duty, even if he was in dereliction of it on a fairly regular basis.

The stars blurred past, and the lights inside the ship flickered and blinked in a reassuring ‘we'll keep you safe and yes, the oxygen is still turned on' manner. Sanzo didn't feel reassured. He didn't want to have Hakkai and Gojyo here, but his initial solo flight had been . . . interesting. How he was still alive right now, he didn't know; he was thankful that his voiceprint seemed to override all security locks and features, and that shouting, "Land here, you fucking machine," had ended in a landing – of sorts.

Any minute now, Sanzo thought, closing his eyes and trying not to twitch, Gojyo would open his mouth and—

"Spill," came the irritating voice.

"We could help you better, if we knew what we were looking for," Hakkai said.

Sanzo cracked open an eye. " _Et tu_ , Hakkai?"

"Well, yes," Hakkai said semi-apologetically. "Much as it pains me, I really do think Gojyo's right, this time." And his arm came up, almost automatically, to fend off Gojyo's outraged but ineffectual karate chop at his head.

"I . . ." Sanzo started.

 _Are you nearly here yet?! Are you, are you, are you?! Oh, Sanzo, tell me you're nearly here! Pleeeeeease!_

"It's difficult to explain," Sanzo said, wincing.

 _Did . . . did I do something wrong?_

"We have some time," Hakkai said firmly.

"The hell we do!" Gojyo said. "Two hours, tops."

 _Sanzo? Please, Sanzo . . ._

"I really think—"

"We have to get back _now_ —"

 _Are . . . are you leaving me here?_

"Of course I'm not fucking leaving you there, asshole!" Sanzo snarled. "Give me a break. It's just, you haven't exactly given me a map, have you?"

There was a short silence.

"He's finally gone insane," Gojyo said gloomily. "Properly insane, this time. Maybe it'll be like when the fourth reincarnation of His Royal Holiness lost his marbles and thought he'd become a horse. Or the twentieth – or was it the twenty-first? – who refused to wear any clothes except for a hat."

"If you've got one of your headaches, Your Excellency," Hakkai said calmly, "I have a preparation in my satchel that should do the job."

 _I'm really sorry . . . I didn't mean to shout. You do forgive me, right? I just . . . I've waited for this for so long._

"Yeah," Sanzo said, putting his head in his hands. "It's been years. At least," he muttered, "it's felt like fucking years."

 _Oh, I've been waiting for you a lot longer'n that, Sanzo. Dunno how long it's been, but I was here for ages and ages before we started talking. I was talking a lot before that, but I don't think you heard. Don't think you were . . . you. Well, not quite you, anyway. Dunno. It's hard to explain. And then when you were you, it took aaaages before you could hear me properly._

"You're only telling me this _now_?" Sanzo said. "And I'm saying this out loud, aren't I," he added. It wasn't a question.

Hakkai nodded sympathetically; Gojyo slapped his knee cheerfully. "You've gone insane! Funny, I always thought it would be you driving _me_ insane."

It had never been quite so hard before to shut the monkey up. At least, never so hard to ignore him. It had taken a long time before Sanzo had been able to hear him properly – and when he had, at first the monkey had been pretty odd. Mixed-up and rusty-sounding, as if he'd forgotten how to speak or had learned New Shanglish from someone who couldn't speak it all that well themselves. Over time, the transmission – the link between them – had sharpened, and the monkey had learned basic etiquette: like 'shut the hell up when Sanzo's talking' and 'shut the hell up when Sanzo's thinking'. At no point had he found himself forgetting, however, that the monkey's voice was just in his brain.

Now, though, his voice was so clear and distinct that it was as if he was standing in the same room. It was not only distracting, but _fucking annoying_. He hadn't spent all this time keeping this a secret – for no real reason other than it was his own problem, his own head and therefore his own sodding business – only to spill to his two closest subordinates (or best friends, as he supposed other people might view them) in a way that made him look insane.

"We're on a rescue mission," Sanzo ground out through a locked jaw.

"Who the hell are we rescuing?" Gojyo asked. "A big pink sky-pig?"

"Very humorous," Hakkai said mildly, not laughing, and Gojyo subsided like a smacked child. "Are you sure I can't give you something for your headache, Your Excellency?" He flicked a few switches, before turning to his bag and beginning to undo the straps, evidently taking momentary silence as consent. The ship gave out a contented hum and began blinking lights in a steady fashion. Outside the window, the stars streamed by.

"The only thing that would fix my headache would be a lobotomy," Sanzo said gloomily. He closed his eyes.

 _I'm really sorry, Sanzo. I thought you knew I'd been in here for . . . Well, I dunno how long. Ages. It's kinda hard to keep track of time. It definitely passes more slowly since I've been talking to you though._

 _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

 _Oh! Sanzo! Don't get mad! I just meant . . . It's hard, waiting for you to be free to talk to me. I wish I was with you all the time, you know?_

"Do you think he realises he's moving his lips when he talks to his imaginary friend?" Gojyo said in a stage-whisper.

Sanzo felt moved to point his phaser at Gojyo's head. It was almost a reflex-action; he barely had to open his eyes. "Shut the hell up," he said. "I'm not having a good day."

It wasn't so much that the monkey was _needy_ , so much as . . . Sanzo had an uncomfortable mental image that once he'd rescued the damn thing from whatever odd prison he was trapped in, the monkey would wrap his arms around his leg and refuse to ever let go. Sometimes Sanzo could barely stand his own company; there was no way this could go well. But the alternative . . .

 _Aw, Sanzo, you know I wouldn't do anything to annoy you, right? Well . . . Not on purpose, I mean._

The alternative was living with this constant, annoying, optimistic, chirpy . . . and yet deeply, deeply _sad_ voice in his head for the rest of his life. Or, rather, existence. He wasn't sure he believed in reincarnation – the idea that he was the reincarnated soul of the same king who'd gone off his rocker and thought himself a horse was insulting, at best – but he also wasn't sure that reincarnation didn't believe in _him_. It would be just his luck if after he died, instead of the peace of the grave, he woke up with the buzz of ‘Sanzoooo! You're back!' in his infant ears.

 _You . . . You didn't hear me_ before. _Though it wasn't exactly you. Not quite. I dunno – I can't explain it._

And wasn't _that_ reassuring?

"Oi! Princess! Don't point a gun at my head and then _doze off_!"

Sanzo fired.

After a brief moment (that Sanzo thought he'd remember and enjoy _later_ ; right now he was too stressed and irritated for petty amusement), Gojyo realised that instead of a hole lasered into his head, he was only missing a chunk of his long, messy hair.

"Here's your medicine," Hakkai said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the string of expletives Gojyo was issuing. He passed over a small twist of powder, before stowing his bag in a side-locker. "Now, perhaps you could describe the circumstances your friend is being held in. It might enable us to search more effectively."

"For Princess's imaginary friend?" Gojyo muttered – but not quietly enough.

Sanzo fired again, enjoying the way Gojyo leaped about, singed hair floating to the ground – he was glad the anti-grav wasn't playing up, as it sometimes did, because the only thing worse than a cocky Gojyo would be a mouth full of the bastard's hair.

"He's in . . . some sort of containment field, as far as I can work out," Sanzo said to Hakkai, when the entertainment had palled and Gojyo was still moaning.

 _Naw, dunno about that. It's just a room, with sort of see-through walls._

Sanzo rolled his eyes; he couldn't help himself. "He's in a room with see-through walls."

 _If I prod one, it just sorta shimmers at me and turns solider. I mean, more solid._

"Shimmery see-through walls that turn solid if touched," Sanzo amended, rather wearily, undoing the twist of paper that Hakkai had passed him and swallowing the contents down with a grimace; he was sure Hakkai made his remedies as revolting as possible, just to spite him.

"Sounds like a disco," Gojyo said, stretching out his long legs and evidently deciding to humour the madman. "Sure this dude isn't a big pink sky-pig?"

"Fuck off," Sanzo said, without much rancour. He was too weary for rancour, he decided. He'd gone past rancour and into a sort of pale, ineffectual, all-encompassing rage.

"Hmm," Hakkai said. "Do you think we're heading for some sort of facility on a planet, or a ship?"

"How the hell should I know?" Sanzo said. "He's in a four-walled room with no idea how he got there—"

 _No idea how long I've been here, either._

"No idea how long he's been there—"

 _Booooooooored to death, without even needin' food or drink. I mean, I'm not hungry, but I can remember eating, and at least that would pass the time and—_

"And he doesn't need food or drink, though how the hell that works, don't ask me."

 _An' sometimes I feel like my brain is turning to mush and leakin' out my ears._

"And sometimes he feels as if . . . Yeah. You and me both, moron."

"Your Excellency?"

"What?" Sanzo pushed a hand through his hair with irritation. "He's not that far away, that's all I know. Closer than usual. Closest the irritating bastard's ever been."

"Hmm," Hakkai said. "An artificial environment. Some sort of stasis field. Travelling closer through the years, until he's in range with someone who can hear his distress call. Does that sound accurate?"

Sanzo twitched. "It sounds less irritating than the reality."

"Funny how it's tonight that Mr Imaginary sounds closest," Gojyo said, yawning. "When it's the same night for the ritual when you talk to God."

"Yes, a real laugh-a-minute coincidence," Sanzo snapped.

And then there was a sort of disbelieving silence as they all considered that idea properly.

"The holy planet Gogyou's orbit is the closest to ours that it will be for the next fifty years tonight," Hakkai said meditatively.

"I mean . . . I know that tonight's ritual is all about Princess here talking to God," Gojyo said, sitting up straighter in his chair and looking pained. "But don't tell me that it's _real_. Don't tell me that this motherfucker has actually been _holy all along_. No _way_."

Sanzo snorted. "I'm not communicating with God. Trust me on this one."

"He's long-lived, possibly immortal . . . He doesn't need to eat or drink . . . He can communicate with your mind—" Hakkai said.

"And he's a moron," Sanzo interrupted.

"I wasn't saying he _was_ God," Hakkai replied mildly. "I was just pointing out what other people will say. Plus, it'll be a good excuse for missing the ceremony, Your Excellency: 'We were on a mission to find God and bring him home to his people!' Etcetera etcetera."

"You can't be serious," Sanzo said flatly.

"And who's to say he _isn't_ God?" Hakkai continued, as if Sanzo hadn't spoken. "At least, _our_ God. Could be that every time the planet draws closer, those who are . . . susceptible to the waves he's using to send his distress call hear his voice and say that God is speaking to them? Tradition has to start somewhere."

Sanzo ground his teeth.

"Pardon?" Hakkai said politely.

"Set a course for Gogyou," Sanzo managed.

"Ah, we're going to collect him?"

"Collect him?" Sanzo said bitterly. "Hell no. I'm going to _kill_ him."

* * *

 _Sanzo . . . What's the sky like?_

 _Don't be an idiot. You know what the sky's like. Big. Blue. Or alternatively, at night: big. Black._

 _Yeah. I . . . just wondered if I was remembering it right._

 _Tch._

 _Sorry, Sanzo. I guess it was a stupid question._

 _Moron. If you apologise again, I'll . . ._

 _Shoot me in the head?_

 _Right._

 _OK, Sanzo. Sorry— I mean. I'll shut up! I promise!_

 _Listen up, monkey, because I'm not saying this again._

 _What?_

 _The sky. At night. It's one of my favourite things. Nothing better than a smoke in your hand, a cool wall against your back, and the whole of space spread out in front of you – dark as far as the eye can see, sprinkled with stars. Some dim and far away, some bright and huge. And in the day, sometimes I look up and think: funny how there's all those worlds out there that are invisible until the light fades. OK, I'm done. No questions from the audience permitted._

 _It sounds beautiful._

 _Do you ever listen to a word I say?_

 _But you haven't_ really _finished yet, have you? Aw, Sanzo, please. What are the stars you can see from your world? And have you visited them? And—_

 _Can it, or I won't say another word._

 _Sorry, San— I mean—_

 _Hush, idiot. Don't want to give all my best pointless stories away at once. I'll still be here tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that. And you know what? Probably the damn tomorrow after that, and ever on until the stars burn out and the universe implodes._

 _Promise? Promise you'll still be there?_

 _I reckon it'd take more than a simple thing like the universe imploding for me to get rid of a pest like you._

 _I . . . Sorry, Sanzo._

 _It's a promise, monkey. Fuck's sake. I promise._

* * *

"Safety fields on," Hakkai insisted as he took control of the ship, diving into the thick, swirling cloud that surrounding the tiny planet Gogyou. From the surface of New Shangri-La, Gogyou looked a particularly piercing green; from just above _Gogyou_ 's surface, it was less piercing and more poisonous. The evil thick smog swirled, all but entirely concealing the land below.

Sanzo switched on without comment, the force fields springing into humming action. Gojyo, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat and smirked. "The big man needs no safety fields to stay in a chair," he said.

Hakkai didn't respond, just nudged a lever. The ship bucked like a pissed-off stallion and Gojyo fell arse over tip on to the floor.

Sanzo snorted, but made no comment. He'd save up the mockery for later.

Gojyo picked himself up and swaggered back to his chair, with only a hint of a limp. "Meant to do that," he said airily, but he clicked his safety fields on with exaggerated nonchalance.

"I'll have to take us below the fog," Hakkai said, adjusting his monocle. "Might be bumpy. I'll take us over the land on a recce, see if we can spot a likely place where your friend is. What's his name, by the way?"

Sanzo said nothing.

"Who says it's a guy?" Gojyo said, evidently attempting to claw back a bit of his dignity through mockery. "Could be a girl with enormous knockers. Maybe _that's_ the reason Princess has been so chaste throughout—"

"I might not be able to hit you, because of the safety fields," Sanzo said, staring out of the window as the fog surrounded the ship, "but I can still blow your head off. Just so you know."

"Ah, I think if you fire your phaser gun right now, you might make the ship explode," Hakkai said.

"So? I'll have shot Gojyo," Sanzo said tetchily. "My aim will have been achieved. Besides, I am His Royal Holiness – if I die, I get to relive my teenage years all over again. I think I have more to risk here."

"That doesn't quite make sens—" Hakkai started.

"Let's just get this shit over with, right?" Sanzo interrupted. "Does this thing have headlights? I can see fuck all out there."

Hakkai flicked a few switches as the ship bucked and rolled, finally breaking free of the tendrils of fog and skimming over barren, black rock.

"Ain't nothing to see," Gojyo objected, when the nothing was brightened by dazzling spotlights.

 _HEY, SANZO, HAVE YOU FOUND ME YET? YOU SOUND—_

Sanzo didn't say anything; he didn't even think anything. There was no need. The power of his rage was perfectly adequate to express his feelings.

 _Uh, sorry, Sanzo. Is that better? I'm whispering real quiet._

"We're near," Sanzo said.

"Are you sure?" Hakkai asked, frowning out as the ship skimmed over the planet's weathered, featureless surface.

"Yes," Sanzo said flatly, feeling it unnecessary to explain himself. And very shortly, there _was_ no need to explain himself: as they looked down, the landscape changed suddenly, dipping down and revealing thick, tangled jungle with odd, evil-looking plants that Sanzo didn't recognise. What he did recognise, however, looking at the join from plants to rock, was that the rock wasn't rock – it was spaceship. A huge spaceship – dark and weathered and ancient.

"Ah," Hakkai said. "I'll just land here, shall I?"

"Holy moly," Gojyo said. "What the fuck is that?"

"Let's go and find out, shall we?" Hakkai replied quickly, evidently receiving Sanzo's 'if you don't shut up, I'll kill you' thought waves loud and clear. He didn't wait for an answer, just got busy with the ship's controls, scanning the stricken vessel and laying in a course for its docking bay.

"Oxygen and gravity seem to still be in place," Hakkai said, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned a dozen info screens at once. "Whatever caused the ship to crash, it wasn't the life support failing."

"Very reassuring," Sanzo said sourly. "I'm so glad to know what failed to kill everyone on-board except my own personal demon."

Hakkai pressed a few more buttons, eyes still working. "Ah," he said after some time. "Looks like all the crew and passengers were put in stasis for the long journey. Only . . ." He frowned. "There was a systems crash, and by the time the stasis chambers rebooted, only one passenger was alive."

"The stupid monkey," Sanzo said wearily.

"A _monkey_?" Gojyo said, hilarity in his voice. "We've come all this way because you're talking to an invisible monkey? Fuck off, man. That's even better than the horse thing."

Sanzo attempted to rise out of his chair and commit murder.

"Humanoid," Hakkai interrupted, frowning at one screen, which was evidently scanning the remaining passenger. He punched buttons. "The original passenger data is still intact. We have here one Mr Goku Son, age eighteen."

"Be better if he was a monkey," Gojyo objected. "Way more fun. Or a girl with a huge rack, if you get my drift, ha ha h—"

"Ha," Hakkai finished for him. "When I say he's eighteen . . . He's sort of eighteen."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sanzo said, back to feeling weary.

"Eighteen going on five-hundred," Hakkai said apologetically. "At least, he began his journey when he was eighteen, and he was woken in his state of stasis about five-hundred years ago. Who knows how long his journey was in-between? We know our Shanglish ancestors had more advanced technology than us, before their planet burned – it's probable this ship is several thousand years old."

"Several thousand years old," Sanzo repeated slowly.

 _I . . . don't feel that old. Um. Sorry?_

"This dude is going to be _wrinkly_ ," Gojyo said with gusto.

"Not if the technology was sufficiently advanced," Hakkai said. He looked again at the screens. "It appears that the ship's AI systems have adapted – or corrupted, if you will – from their original purposes, and are now solely concerned with the welfare and stability of their one remaining passenger."

"Wrinkly," Sanzo said flatly, tuning out Hakkai.

 _I don't think I'm wrinkly. Dunno what I look like though. Haven't seen a mirror in . . . Crap. Maybe I'm really ugly. Crap crap crap crap crap crap—_

"Shut up," Sanzo snapped. "We'll find out soon enough. Hakkai, is it safe to go in without atmosphere suits?"

Hakkai typed frantically on the control-panel keyboard. Finally he sat back, the wrinkles in his brow relaxing. "It appears so. Nevertheless, I suggest we exercise caution – quick in, quick out. I have transferred a map of the facilities to my hand-held." He disengaged the safety fields securing him in his seat and stood up, clicking the door release button.

Sanzo and Gojyo followed suit, Sanzo feeling an unwelcome and peculiar churning in the pit of his stomach. Was it nerves? He wasn't used to feeling nervous and he disapproved of it.

 _So this is it, huh? Sanzo?_

The monkey – Goku, Sanzo remembered – sounded so tightly-strung and excited he might snap, despite his evident effort to keep his voice down so he didn't burst Sanzo's eardrums.

 _Yes, monkey. Now don't be a pain in the ass, or I might just leave you here._

 _Nah, you never would. I know you never would._

Sanzo knew he never would, as well. He didn't much like knowing that. He hoped, nonsensically, that the monkey _would_ turn out to be old, wrinkly and ugly.

"This way," Hakkai called, and Sanzo tried to focus on the task in hand – walking down endless white-plastic corridors, through doors that dilated like blown pupils when approached. It was like being in a historical science-fiction holo-novel, but more irritating and with no off-switch.

"Here," Hakkai said finally, stopping in front of a door that looked, in Sanzo's opinion, identical to all the other fucking doors they'd stood in front of, except for the small fact that it failed to open automatically. "I think you should do the honours."

Sanzo rolled his eyes and pressed the panel on the wall next to the door. With a lack of ceremony, it dilated open, revealing a room beyond. It had four walls, which shimmered slightly, but Sanzo had barely blinked before a petite, short bundle of energy shot out, as if propelled by something more than legs, and hit him so hard he fell backwards, on to the floor.

"Fuck!" Gojyo yelled, throwing himself on top of Sanzo also and joining in the struggle.

It was less of a rescue effort than a concerted attempt to snap his bones and crush him to death, Sanzo thought bitterly, vowing to put Gojyo on a diet when they returned – although more for reasons of cruelty than for excess weight.

"I don't need to be rescued from a hug, moron," he managed, although he was short of air. "So get the fuck off me, Gojyo. And you," he said, addressing the warm figure trying to squeeze the life out of him. "I value my internal organs, so I would be grateful if— Are you _crying_ on me?"

"No," sniffed the figure, releasing his grip infinitesimally and looking up at Sanzo. He might be crying, Sanzo thought stupidly, but his face wasn't crying. His smile was wide and bright, and it widened so much further that it practically split his face in two. "Hi, Sanzo!" he said.

"How did you know it was me?" Sanzo asked, trying to pull himself together.

The monkey's eyes – huge and flecked with gold – sparkled. "As if I wouldn't know you when I saw you!" he said. "You're my _soulmate_. Of _course_ I'd know you."

Sanzo heard Gojyo go into hysterics behind him. "Shut _up_ ," he said. It felt weird to say it out loud after all this time.

"Sorry, Sanzo!" the monkey said, and then laughed, delightedly, as if he was thinking the exact same thing.

It was decidedly odd not to be able to hear what the monkey was thinking.

"Did you hear that your real name is Goku Son?" Sanzo said sternly, trying to sit up. The floor was hard, and if he had to be called someone's soulmate in public, he'd rather deal with it sitting up than lying down.

Besides, sitting up meant that he'd have something to do. Something to distract himself from how . . . from how . . .

"You can't hear what I'm thinking now, can you?" Sanzo asked suspiciously.

"No," Goku said, a touch sadly. "But now I can talk to you properly, and that'll be so much better!" he said, his smile breaking out once more with a vengeance.

Something to distract him, Sanzo concluded his thought with some panic, from how _attractive_ the stupid monkey was. And how close. Sanzo wore the traditional robes of the king – flowing and all-encompassing, he was modestly covered up from wrists to neck to ankles. Didn't help though, when the monkey was pressed up close against him, and despite his clothes and thick cape, he seemed to be all bare flesh – arms, legs, hands, and his face too close for Sanzo to feel comfortable.

"So, I'm Goku, huh?" Goku said, still smiling. "S'okay. I don't mind if you still call me monkey, though."

"Hah! Monkey," Gojyo said. "A really short-ass monkey, and all."

"You gotta problem?" Goku said. "Better to be a short-ass monkey than . . . than . . . than a giant with a crappy hairstyle."

"What did you call me?" Gojyo snapped back.

"Crappy-hairstyle giant!"

"Why, you little ass-face!"

Both men erupted from their respective positions and became a tangle of flailing fists.

"You pulled my _hair_ , you little fucker," Gojyo yelled. Goku didn't reply; just bit him, and the battle intensified.

"It's strangely mesmerising," Hakkai said, coming over to Sanzo and sticking out a hand.

Sanzo allowed himself to be pulled up off the floor without comment. "I need a cigarette," he said after some time.

"I'm not sure it's entirely wise to smoke here," Hakkai said apologetically. "And we should be getting back; I'm anxious about the ship's structural integrity, particularly now its sole passenger has been freed."

Sanzo and Hakkai looked over at Goku and Gojyo, who were still fighting – but with every appearance of enjoyment.

"Man, this is _awesome_ ," Goku said, beaming from ear to ear. "Can I beat him to a pulp, Sanzo? Can I? Can I?"

"I'd like to see you try, pipsqueak!" Gojyo said, flailing as Goku managed to pin him down with no apparent effort.

"It seems Goku's extended stay in the stasis chamber has left him in rather better health and physical shape than perhaps he went in," Hakkai said interestedly.

"Drop him, idiot," Sanzo snapped. "And let's get going." He felt strangely annoyed that he was being . . . Well, ignored, he supposed. For fuck's sake! What was wrong with him?

Goku dropped Gojyo, his head hitting the floor with a painful-sounding clunk, and bounded over to Sanzo. He linked arms with him, smiling up at him. "Sure!" he agreed. "Whatever you want."

"Then let go of me," Sanzo said.

"Oh. OK," Goku said, his smile slipping very slightly, but he let go, and stood back so that he was at least two inches away from Sanzo, rather than practically cheek to cheek.

Sanzo rolled his eyes, feeling strangely cheered, and strode off, before Hakkai cleared his throat and directed him the right way, Goku following close on his heels and Gojyo loping along behind them, muttering under his breath.

"I'm Hakkai, by the way," Hakkai said as they walked. "And your adversary is Gojyo."

"Nice ta meetcha!" Goku said, practically bouncing. "You're Sanzo's friends, right?"

"Ah," Hakkai said. "Do you mean His Excellency? Then yes."

"Sanzo," Gojyo said from behind them. "So you _do_ have a real name, Princess."

"And if either of you two ever use it, I will shoot your brains out," Sanzo said in conversational tone.

"OK, Sanzo," Gojyo said from behind, sniggering.

Sanzo reached for his gun and utilised it.

There was silence for a frozen moment, and then an ominous splintering sound as the wall to one side of Gojyo began to crack.

"How about we run?" Hakkai suggested mildly.

The cracking sound started to become a distant rumbling.

They ran.

As the royal ship took off, with a bump, depositing its inhabitants in a jumbled heap on the floor, the ancient craft fell apart with a sad, pathetic noise and the minimum of fuss. Looking over at the shining, beaming face beside him, Sanzo couldn't decide whether he was happy or horrified. He remembered Goku on top of him, calling him his 'soulmate' and smiling at him as if all his dreams had come true . . . And the only reason he didn't blush was because he _never_ blushed; instead, a simple biological mechanism send blood rushing to his cheeks.

For fuck's sake.

Sanzo really, _really_ didn't want to find out what would happen when Goku got on land and spread himself. He grit his teeth and told himself not to be pathetic – it was a shame it had no effect on his feelings at all.

***

"Behold our king!" Hakkai announced. "For he has spoken with God, and God has deigned to grace us with his presence! Bow down before him!" And he knelt, dramatically, tipping his head. Before he tipped it entirely, however, he winked at Sanzo.

Sanzo, a rictus instead of a grin on his face, waved at his assembled people through the candlelit darkness, a thick crowd of kneeling lumps, as far as the eye could see, and praised be that because of tradition, there were no cameras to capture this moment for eternity.

"Um . . . Did he say God?" Goku whispered, his fingers tightening around Sanzo's arm. "I'm not a god. No way."

"This ain't the time, brat," Gojyo hissed out of the side of his mouth, from his prone position on the floor.

"What he _means_ is, let's discuss this later," Sanzo managed, without moving his lips. "After I've beheaded Hakkai and danced on his grave."

"Um, hi everyone!" Goku said, taking the initiative and spreading one hand in an almost-wave.

Sanzo suppressed the temptation to roll his eyes; one didn't roll their eyes at God. "Yes, we have returned," he said, in kingly fashion. "And we are tired and wish to retire, so we bid you goodnight."

"The king will hold audience tomorrow," Hakkai announced, still on bended knee. "He will relay God's will to you. All praise the king! All praise almighty God!"

The palace grounds echoed with fervent shouts of praise as Sanzo walked – as quickly as possible whilst maintaining his dignity – towards the palace and into his private quarters, dismissing his personal attendants as he went.

"I should banish you," Sanzo said, shutting the door to his private sitting room behind him with more force than strictly necessary. "All of you," he clarified, "but particularly you, Hakkai, you bastard."

Hakkai adjusted his monocle and smiled apologetically. "But if you banish me, _you'll_ have to explain to your citizens why we're entertaining God."

"I could just shoot everyone," Sanzo said, closing his eyes. "That would be simpler."

"Nah," Gojyo said contemplatively. "That'd make a lot of mess to clean up. Besides, there's a lot of us. Your arm'd get tired."

Goku opened his mouth to contribute – and yawned, widely and massively. He looked surprised. "I haven't felt tired for . . . I dunno how long," he said. "Odd. Feel kind of hungry too."

"If you sleep on a full stomach you'll get indigestion," Sanzo said severely. "We'll eat tomorrow. Now, we sleep. Hakkai, take Goku to a guest room and—" He broke off, crossly. If he didn't have a cigarette soon, he wouldn't be answerable for his actions. " _What_?" Goku's whole expression had drooped, and his lower lip was quivering suspiciously.

"Gojyo and I will wish you goodnight," Hakkai said, standing up.

"We will? Oh, right, we will," Gojyo said hastily when Hakkai turned a meaningful glance at him.

The door shut behind them and Sanzo and Goku stared at each other. "Can't I share with you?" Goku said, without even the decency to blush. Then he yawned again, so widely that it was a surprise his face didn't split. "I've been dreaming of it for so long," he mumbled, practically swaying where he sat. "Don't make me go away."

It was the yawn that decided it for Sanzo; that, and the way that Goku had fallen asleep where he sat. Sanzo had to leap for him, or he'd have fallen right off the sofa and on to the floor.

He should have _let_ Goku fall asleep on the floor, Sanzo thought viciously as he lay next to a sleeping Goku in the dubious comfort of the royal bed. For despite the enormity of the bed, and despite the deepness of his sleep, whenever Sanzo moved, Goku moved right with him, snuggling in closer and closer until Goku was more bedspread than bed-companion.

How had he let things come to this sorry pass? As the king, he was forbidden from marriage. Succession wasn't decided by bloodline, but by reincarnation – the former rulers of the kingdom had quickly realised that breeding their own children only led to instability: the blood-children of the king contesting the right of the reincarnated-soul to rule the kingdom. The wars had been hard-fought and hard-won; now no king would dare to introduce a legitimate rival to . . . well . . . himself, for fear of further civil unrest.

Sanzo frowned and looked over at the head on the pillow beside his. Why the hell was he even _thinking_ about marriage in conjunction with the monkey? The monkey was an idiot. If Sanzo _wanted_ to have an official ‘companion', surely he'd already have found himself one; besides, an ancient eighteen-year-old with all the bounce of a small puppy and the brain of something rather more slow-moving, who'd _been in a box for thousands of years_ , surely wasn't an ideal partner, if a man had any say in the matter – and Sanzo thought he rather did.

Who cared if they knew each other, in an odd way, practically inside out? At least, he thought he knew the monkey inside out; he suspected Goku didn't know him nearly so well. If he did, there was no way that he'd be so keen to stick to him like a magnet.

Sanzo was conscious – had always been conscious, really – that he wasn't a very _nice_ person. Not that it bothered him; who wanted to be nice? He'd never held much truck with white lies and minor pleasantries and inane politenesses – what the hell was wrong with being blunt? It had always worked for him – and meant that instead of having to fend off an army of sycophants on a daily basis, his staff and his citizens knew that he wasn't there to serve their every whim: and if they didn't like it, they could just fuck off and venerate someone more worthy of their time.

But he did feel conscious right now – too conscious, as if something had peeled off all his skin and left him, bare and vulnerable, to the mercy of the elements – that he perhaps cared more than he was entirely comfortable with about whether Goku liked him or not.

He told himself that it was just the shock of adjusting – the silence in his head was odd and should have been entirely welcome. It _was_ entirely welcome. But . . .

Goku moved, slightly, and began to snore – loudly and with irritating irregularity.

"Shut the hell up!" Sanzo said after about thirty seconds, whacking him round the head.

Goku jolted awake and gazed at him blearily for a moment. Then he smiled – a smile so pure and sweet that Sanzo felt his stomach do contortions. "Wow," he said, a little indistinctly. "It's not a dream. I really _am_ here with you."

"Not for much longer if you keep making that racket," Sanzo said as sternly as he could – his heart thumping so loudly in his chest that he was sure Goku could hear it.

Of course, he realised with some irritation, Goku didn't _need_ to hear it – he could probably just feel it through Sanzo's skin, the way that Goku was hanging on to him, as if for dear life. He attempted to move away a touch, but Goku's grip only tightened. "Please?" Goku said, and blinked at Sanzo – his eyes sleepy and hazy and . . . and doing terrible things to Sanzo's peace of mind. "Don't be mad. It's weird not being able to . . ." He trailed off, evidently unsure how to finish.

The most annoying thing about it, Sanzo thought sourly, was that he felt exactly the same way. The loss of their mental link _was_ weird; as if he'd had a painless amputation and was left with a sharp, ghostly absence that tugged at him and made his life worse, rather than better.

"Go to sleep," Sanzo said shortly. And didn't complain when Goku took that – bizarrely – to mean that it was permissible for him to lie on Sanzo's arm, head snuggled up into the crook of Sanzo's neck, and all but purr.

When Goku started snoring again, Sanzo just put up with it. It seemed to him that he deserved it; after all, he evidently had no spine and not even an ounce of common manly courage. Not when it came to this tousle-haired idiot, at least.

* * *

 _Sanzo . . . are you asleep?_

 _Yes._

 _Oh._

 _. . . Spit it out, monkey._

 _I don't wanna get on your nerves . . . It can wait._

 _You woke me up to tell me that it can wait?_

 _Oh! I didn't mean to!_

 _Monkey._

 _Yes?_

 _Just tell me what you wanted to say._

 _I . . . I didn't really want to say anything specific._

 _Of course you didn't. You just wanted to raise my blood-pressure another notch, so I'll have to see Hakkai for another of his noxious potions._

 _Yeah. I mean, no! I just . . . I dunno. I thought you felt sad._

 _I beg your pardon?_

 _I can tell when you're awake. And it's really late over where you are, isn't it? I just wondered if you wanted some company._

 _Did you hear me ask for some company?_

 _Sorry, Sanzo! I know – if you can't sleep, maybe I could sing you a lullaby. Well, I could if I could_ remember _a lullaby. Maybe I could improvise or—_

 _Are you trying to torment me? And here was I, thinking my day couldn't get any worse—_

 _Lullabyyyyy, lullabyyyy! La la la la lullabyyy! Hey, Sanzo, it's rude to laugh! And that's not going to help you get to sleep!_

 _Sorry, monkey._

 _Did . . . did you just say sorry?_

 _Don't worry, I didn't mean it. But thank you._

 _And you didn't mean that either?_

 _. . ._

 _Sanzo?_

 _I'm not saying it again. If you missed the moment, it's your own fucking fault. Goodnight, monkey._

 _Goodnight, Sanzo. (Lullabyyyyy!)_

 _Even if you whisper, I can still hear you._

 _Yeah! It's relaxing!_

 _. . . Kill me now._

 _Nah! This singing is way more fun._

* * *

Sanzo wasn't a morning person. He wasn't really an evening person either, come to think of it – late nights made him just as cranky as early mornings. Not that he was exactly sunshine and kittens at noon, either. But he submitted to early mornings, when absolutely necessary, with the minimum of bad grace, and the maximum of cigarettes and black hyper-caffeinated coffee.

He did not, however, remember requesting an early-morning perfumed, wet alarm-clock.

"Sanzo! Are you awake?" Goku said in his ear. It was sort of a whisper, Sanzo thought, playing dead, but it was the sort of whisper that was usually accompanied by loud banging of drawers and doors and other noises designed to wake up an unfortunate sleeper.

This morning, however, Goku wasn't trying to wake up Sanzo with noise – but with smell. And with dampness. It was a particularly unpleasant combination – and Sanzo's sense of discomfort only worsened when he opened his eyes to see a dripping wet, almost naked Goku, who'd obviously been making free with the en-suite facilities.

"You _are_ awake!" Goku said, a bit louder this time.

Sanzo blinked, his mouth going dry as water rolled off Goku's toned, golden skin and dripped on him – until it dripped in his eye, nearly blinding him. "Yarrgh!" he said, rather incoherently. And when his eye had stopped watering, "What's that smell?"

"Me," Goku said, with a strange pride in his voice. "I worked out how to use the dispenser in your bathroom and I couldn't decide which scent of body cleaner to use so I used them all and then there was hair cleaner and different kinds of—"

"Well done," said Sanzo, trying not to breathe. "You have mastered voice-activated technology. And you now smell like a hothouse."

Goku grinned. "It's good, right?"

Sanzo, in the face of such enthusiasm, felt curiously unable to admit that he preferred unperfumed soap; the cutting remark arrived on the tip of his tongue, but somehow failed to roll off it. He told himself it was basic politeness; it wasn't Goku's fault that he hadn't had a bath for thousands of years, and had been kept clean – presumably – by atmospheric filtration and nanobots. He was simply taking all of his bubble-baths in one fell – foul – swoop. He rather suspected, however, that it was the unaccustomed sight of acres of wet skin, in conjunction with Goku's cheerful grin.

"I worked out how the other bits and bobs worked as well," Goku said, a hint of a blush on his face. "Haven't had to . . . you know . . . in forever."

It was early in the morning, and Sanzo had not been offered coffee or cigarettes. Instead, he had been offered an unpleasant olfactory awakening, a sight that would have aroused even a blind asexual, and had then been told about his new bed-mate's toilet habits in euphemistic terms. He wasn't sure he was strong enough for this.

"Oh! I can't believe I haven't said good morning!" Goku said. And before Sanzo could blink, or dodge, Goku leaned in and kissed him, with gusto, on the cheek. "Good morning, Sanzo!"

Sanzo put the pillow over his head and hoped that when he lifted it, he would be in another – less insane and terrifying – world.

He wasn't.

* * *

"I wish you wouldn't smoke in the bedroom," Hakkai said with mild disapproval. "You know I don't care for the smell."

Gojyo laughed. "You don't complain when I do _this_." He leaned over and kissed Hakkai with more force than strictly necessary, but he noticed that Hakkai bore it like a man.

"You have no manners," Hakkai said when Gojyo was done, but there was a slightly breathless tinge to his voice.

"See?" Gojyo said, taking another drag on his cigarette. "You don't mind. Besides," he added, "it's your fault."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. This day is gonna be hell; I need to get as many smokes in as possible before it all kicks off."

"I think the people will be very pleased to learn that their king is to take a god as his consort," Hakkai said calmly. "Don't you?"

Gojyo made a noise that wasn't exactly a laugh, more of a groan. It felt like a groan, at any rate. "Yeah, the people'll love it. Not so sure about Princess though. I reckon he'll hold us down and he'll chop off our—"

"There's no need to be vulgar," Hakkai said, shifting in bed in such a way that made it seriously hard for Gojyo to concentrate.

"Uh," Gojyo said, trying to stop his brain from leaking out his ears. "Stop it, you bastard."

"Certainly," Hakkai said, moving away.

Gojyo glared at him balefully. "Don't make my last moments on this planet ones of distress and dissatisfaction. Princess is going to kill us when he hears your plan, so I demand some recompense. You'd better make it good."

Hakkai smiled lightly. "But it's the perfect solution! Besides, it'll be true, soon enough – we might as well make it easier for him to break the news to us. You know what His Excellency is like."

Gojyo snorted. "Yeah – frigid. He's never going to unwind enough to let himself enjoy his imaginary monkey friend that way."

"No?" Hakkai murmured. "I think you'll find soon enough that—"

"Shut up about him," Gojyo complained, interrupting. "You're spoiling the mood. Now I'm thinking about Princess attempting a striptease, and it's putting me off."

"Oh dear," Hakkai said contemplatively, straddling Gojyo and pinning him down almost absent-mindedly. "I think I have a remedy for that."

* * *

 _Hey, Sanzo, have you got a girlfriend?_

 _. . ._

 _Uh. A boyfriend, then?_

 _Be quiet._

 _Why?_

 _This isn't a subject up for discussion, shit for brains. Take a hint once in a while, will you?_

 _How come?_

 _Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a brick wall._

 _I had a boyfriend once. At least, I remember what it felt like. I . . . can't remember his face though._

 _. . ._

 _I dunno. It's weird. Like, I remember some of my life, but it's as if it was a film – I can see it happening, but it doesn't feel real._

 _. . ._

 _Sanzo?_

 _I'm still here, idiot. I can't listen and talk at the same time._

 _Yeah. It sort of feels like everything's been switched off – all the physical stuff, I mean. I guess that's why I haven't gone crazy. I mean, not too crazy, anyway. But I still feel . . . you know. Like something's missing. Like I'm me, and I'm not me, all at once._

 _Mm._

 _I wonder what a hug feels like? I don't remember._

 _Monkey . . ._

 _Yeah?_

 _Nothing. Drop it._

 _Yeah, OK, Sanzo. It's a deal. Soon as I'm outta here._

 _What?_

 _You know what I mean._

 _Like hell I do._

 _OK, Sanzo. But it's still a deal._

 _. . . If you say so._

* * *

Gojyo was impressed by how Hakkai handled His Royal Highness – he dodged the laser bursts with admirable speed, and timed it so that by the time Princess had digested the broader detail of Hakkai's scheme, the palace audience room was heaving with overexcited courtiers and disciples, the majority of whom were too well-trained by now to mention any singed spots on the walls or destroyed priceless ornaments.

Goku had been persuaded – with difficulty – to remain in the king's room while the audience took place. Gojyo was impressed by him, too: he had to have an inhuman tolerance for bad-tempered control-freaks if he wanted to stick to Princess's side like glue, and yet Goku showed every sign of _enjoying_ it. It was creepy – and excellent entertainment. Gojyo couldn't help but notice, either, that Princess himself seemed even twitcher than normal without his monkey by his side – and that was _before_ Hakkai dropped the bomb.

After several hours of discussion and questions – Princess's answers growing more and more monosyllabic by the second, until he finally stopped talking at all, leaving it entirely to Hakkai – the room cleared, and Princess turned towards Hakkai with a look that suggested pain and destruction and torment: both current and imminent.

"It's an ideal solution," Hakkai said mildly, although Gojyo did notice that his monocle had steamed up a bit, suggesting that Hakkai was less cool and collected than usual. "It explains our absence yesterday from the important ritual and it explains Goku's presence here. It also," he said – rather mercilessly, in Gojyo's opinion, "explains Goku's presence in your quarters." And while Princess's jaw dropped amusingly, like a fish gasping for air, Hakkai added, "Besides, it affords you more privacy. No one will question your association with a god. There appears to be some doubt about whether Goku is _our_ god, but it appears the consensus is that he is at least _a_ god. Which is what you deserve, the people think."

Gojyo choked with laughter. "This idiot deserves to screw a god?" he said, before finding himself in a headlock. As the room swam, it occurred to him that His Excellency never usually fought like this; he had a circle of personal space about a mile wide. It certainly explained the preference for a gun.

"Perhaps don't kill him this time," Hakkai suggested. "He might have his uses at some later date."

"Cannon-fodder," Princess grunted, but let go.

"Now, Gojyo and I will deal with everything further. You go and spend some quality time with Goku," Hakkai said brightly. "You can tell him about the plan."

Princess went an interesting sort of colour when he was embarrassed, Gojyo thought, looking carefully – it was a sight he didn't often get to see. Sort of white with red splotches. Made an interesting contrast with his pale-blond hair and curiously purple-tinted irises. But then he caught Princess's eye – and ran for it. There was no sense in sticking around, no matter how hilarious it was; he didn't have a death wish, after all.

* * *

It was the end of a very long day. Sanzo wanted to go to sleep – very much by himself – and dream a dream that none of this had ever happened. That he hadn't spent the day walking through his private palace garden, watching Goku in raptures over . . . over _grass_ and _sky_ and _bugs_. That he hadn't watched Goku eat so much that any normal person would have been sick, and then ask for seconds with a look of perfect bliss upon his expressive features. That he hadn't sat by and watched Goku breathe as he fell asleep under a tree, _holding hands_ – because the first – and only – time he'd tried to let go, Goku had jerked awake in a horrible way, looking round with a blank, fearful look as if he'd been abandoned and would never be happy again.

And most of all, he'd dream that he didn't have to tell Goku that his advisers had already announced that they were, to all intents and purposes, a couple.

He almost decided to get drunk before he did it, but he knew that would be a coward's way out. So when the light fell, he ushered Goku out on to the balcony, switching on the privacy screens to conceal them from prying eyes, all but shoved him on to a chair, and – helped by the gloom – managed to get out enough words to make it plain what Hakkai had done, and then did his best to change the subject.

It didn't work so well.

At first, Sanzo wondered if Goku was upset – and then if he just hadn't been listening. The monkey didn't say anything at all for some minutes, just gazed out over the palace grounds. But then, just when Sanzo was starting to feel ever so slightly panicked . . .

"Why can't it be real?" Goku said. He didn't say it as if he were angry or upset; he was curiously still and yet curiously alert, his eyes glittering through the dark and his hands tucked together on his lap.

"I . . . What?"

"Why can't we actually be together?" Goku asked calmly, as if that was a reasonable question. As if that was the sort of thing that two people might talk about – _out loud_ – as a matter of course.

Sanzo panicked. Properly. But inside, where no one was looking. "Because you don't know anything about me, monkey," he said, reaching for his cigarettes with hands that resolutely did not shake.

Goku put his head on one side and looked at Sanzo consideringly. "That's not true," he said, a hint of stubbornness bleeding through into his tone of voice. "I know loads about you," he continued. "Loads."

Sanzo snorted. "Just because I've let you babble on at me for fuck knows how long, doesn't mean you know jack shit about _me_."

"I know you're lonely," Goku said obstinately, "even though you won't admit it. And that you want people like Hakkai and Gojyo to like you, but you're afraid they won't, so you're a bastard to them. And that you smoke when you're nervous so you have something to do with your hands. And you like night-time better than daytime, and you've never been kissed, and you can remember your father's laugh but not his face and—"

"That's enough," Sanzo interrupted, laying down his cigarette in the ashtray and trying not to notice that he'd done it. He'd meant to say it firmly, but it came out sounding sort of quiet and weird.

Goku looked upset now – his face sort of screwed up and his eyes beseeching. He released a hand from his lap to scrub over his hair, and Sanzo noticed – almost dispassionately – that that hand was trembling. "Sometimes, when I was in that cage, I thought I knew you better'n myself, Sanzo." His eyes grew suspiciously misty. "I don't – how can I? – but I _want_ to. An' I want to find out what _I'm_ like, cos it was hard to remember at times, but I wanna do it with you beside me. I want to go places with you and laugh with you and . . . and . . ." He trailed off and his discomfiture finally showed, in the nervous set of his shoulders and his drooping neck.

He was, Sanzo realised, expecting rejection. And it was that that brought Sanzo out of his funk and made him pull himself together. Goku might be thousands of years old, but that was a technicality – if it came to that, his _own_ soul might well be of a comparable age. There was no reason why either of them should act like nervous schoolchildren. In fact, Sanzo thought crossly, he'd _never_ acted like a nervous schoolchild before – and he saw no reason to start now.

"Fine," Sanzo said through gritted teeth. "We can . . ."

He'd been _going_ to say that they could go on trips, as long as Goku agreed to sit up straight and stop looking as if someone had shot his favourite dog. He stopped, however, trailing off uncertainly, when Goku raised his head and just looked at him – and his lips parted, just a fraction. Sanzo watched, unable to look away, as Goku's small, pink tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

"Uh, Sanzo?" Goku said, after a long moment.

Sanzo cleared his throat. "What?" he managed.

"I've never . . . But I really, really, really, _really_ want to," Goku said, colour flooding into his cheeks and staining his neck. "With you."

It could have meant any number of things. Sanzo's cock said that it didn't though. _It_ knew what Goku meant.

"Sanzo?"

Sanzo was amazed to discover that he appeared to have lost all power of speech. Which was the only explanation, he thought, for why when Goku got up, came over, sat on his lap, and wound his arms around him, he didn't complain. In fact, Sanzo thought, Goku must have used some kind of mind control, for not only did he not complain, but he hugged right back – tight.

"Ah, I can't breathe," Goku said after some time.

Sanzo let go as if he'd been burned.

"But I don't _mind_ ," Goku said, his lips quirking. "Besides, that was the hug I promised you. Remember?"

Sanzo remembered. "No idea what you're talking about, monkey," he said.

"An' now you've had your hug, I wanna do something I promised _me_ ," Goku said.

Sanzo wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

"I wanna kiss you."

Sanzo cleared his throat.

"Can I?" Goku asked, rather doubtfully. "You won't really shoot me, will y—"

There was only one way to shut him up, Sanzo reasoned. Well, two, but Sanzo liked his balcony without bloodstains. So he tugged the monkey towards him, so hard they collided almost painfully, and kissed him.

Goku made a sound – a small, indistinct sound – that found a highway right through Sanzo's mouth and down to his groin. And then the monkey sucked on his lower lip – hard – and this had a similar electrifying effect. On the monkey too, it seemed.

Goku pressed so close that Sanzo could feel his heartbeat – double-time – through his skin. His mouth was hot and wet and soft.

It took a while to get a rhythm going. Sanzo had pretty much no clue what he was doing; he'd have felt like an idiot, if Goku's mouth hadn't been turning his brain to mush. Every drop of blood in his body was now either in his cheeks – red – or his cock – rock solid.

Every time Goku squirmed against him, Sanzo couldn't stop himself from gasping out loud.

"Inside," Sanzo said after some – awkward, insane, _delicious_ – time. His mouth was dry; that was the only explanation, he thought, for why he had apparently lost the ability to speak in full sentences. Goku's kisses had grown softer and softer, his breathing rapid and shallow. Something inside Sanzo's chest ached, and it made him want to pull Goku closer, even though that was all but fucking impossible.

"Mmm," Goku said, not moving; at least, not moving in any helpful sense. Sanzo didn't consider the way he leaned in to nuzzle, enthusiastically, at his neck, a helpful contribution to taking things inside.

So Sanzo, feeling a surge of his usual irritability, picked him up with a grunt – he weighed more than Sanzo expected – and dumped him unceremoniously inside, before turning back to shut the door and make double certain the privacy screen was engaged.

When he turned, Goku looked . . . dishevelled. And happy. He positively glowed with happiness. Any minute now, Sanzo thought, he was going to say something ridiculous. Something like . . .

"I feel so happy my heart's gonna _explode_ , Sanzo. Can I—"

Fucking _hell_. Sanzo felt his already overheated cheeks flame even hotter. "No," he interrupted, before things got worse. And then, in case Goku took it the wrong way, "Yes."

Goku grinned, and reached up, ever so slightly uncertainly, to rub at the back of his neck. Revealing, as he did so, a hint of washboard stomach and a trail of dark hair.

It crossed Sanzo's mind, briefly, that this wasn't the slightest bit romantic, and maybe Goku was the sort of moron who liked that sort of crap. But then he thought, crossly, that if Goku wanted romance, he'd chosen the wrong person to latch on to. So he followed up his _first_ thought – which was grabbing a slightly startled, but one hundred percent compliant, Goku by the wrist, pulling him through the maze of corridors that led to his bedroom, and shoving him towards the bed.

Goku stumbled but caught himself, perching on the edge. "Sanzo—"

"Well?" Sanzo said sternly, his heart hammering in his chest. "Do you want to or not?"

"Oh yes," Goku said. And then, when Sanzo didn't move, "Please?"

Sanzo wished he'd had a drink; and he was glad he hadn't. But he did feel like an idiot, and it was a novel – and unpleasant – sensation. He didn't want to over-think things, but he couldn't turn his brain off – which was yammering at him in a sort of panicked way that he didn't really know what he was doing, did he?

It was only the stupid monkey, Sanzo told himself sternly; but that made it worse, because it wasn't true. It was _his_ stupid monkey. And it turned out that he _did_ want the stupid monkey to like him – and not just a little.

Goku reached out and grabbed him; the result was less of a hug and more of a crash.

"Idiot," Sanzo said.

"Yeah," Goku agreed cheerfully. And he pushed his hand down between Sanzo's legs, wrapped his long fingers around Sanzo's cock, through his thin robes, and gently squeezed.

Sanzo felt his eyes roll back in his head. " _Fuck_ ," he said, eloquently. And then, loquaciously, tugging at Goku's T-shirt, "Off."

Goku complied, nearly dragging his own head off with it in his eagerness to be rid of it, and canting his hips towards Sanzo in mute indication that he'd like some help _right now_.

Sanzo felt all fingers and thumbs as he worked at Goku's belt, and then buttons, before wrapping his fingers in fabric and yanking it all down.

Goku's breath audibly caught in his throat.

Sanzo had hoped that at some point instinct would take over, or that his hormones would blur his nerves. Neither happened. Instead, Goku attempted to free his legs from his pants, caught up around his knees, managed to kick Sanzo in the shin, and they ended up a tangle of limbs and sharp corners.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" Goku said, as he removed his elbow from Sanzo's eye.

Sanzo . . . started laughing. And once he'd started laughing, he couldn't stop – until Goku smiled, very softly, and pulled Sanzo first on to the bed, tugging his robes up and over, and then on top of him.

Sanzo's laughter stuck in his throat as he met Goku's warm gaze. But he thought that things probably couldn't get more ridiculous, so – awkward though he felt – he reached down between them and took Goku's hot, thick cock in his hand and began to pump it.

The noise Goku made took away some of Sanzo's nerves – and the hand that returned the favour took away his intellect entirely.

For some moments the whole world narrowed into a series of embarrassing noises, the way Goku's skin felt against his own, and the rapidly building heat that started in his stomach and made his muscles clench and shiver.

Goku came first – loudly, which was no real surprise – but the noises he made, and the way his fist tightened around Sanzo's cock, meant Sanzo wasn't far behind.

"That was awesome," Goku said after, his head falling against the sheet. His hair was dark with perspiration, strands sticking to his forehead.

Awesome? It had been awkward. Embarrassing. Messy. And . . . yes, awesome – if such a word had had a place in his personal lexicon – Sanzo thought. "Tch," he said. He noticed, with minor irritation, tinged with amusement and a small amount of awe, that Goku's cock was already half-hard again. He spat, indelicately, into his palm and worked the liquid down Goku's length, enjoying the way that Goku's body stilled at his touch. He was, Sanzo realised, holding his breath.

"S–s–s–sanzo," Goku managed, when his breath ran out.

Sanzo batted away Goku's questing hand. "Yes?"

"I . . . I . . . _Nghhh_ ," he said, incoherently, as Sanzo brushed his thumb back and forth over the head of Goku's cock.

"Pardon?" Sanzo said, enjoying himself. Just looking at Goku – his expression soft and hungry, his legs parted and trembling – made something tight inside himself soften and warm.

" _San_ zo," Goku mumbled, his eyelashes fluttering. "Ple–e–e–e– _ease_."

Sanzo kissed him, his hand still working. Goku kissed back hungrily, one hand winding itself into Sanzo's hair painfully. He kissed as if he couldn't get enough of Sanzo. As if he might die, if he didn't get what he wanted.

Sanzo couldn't help but like it.

Especially when, when Sanzo had dragged things out as long as he possibly could – Goku writhing and panting as if he'd lost all control of himself – Goku came, hard, gasping with desperation into Sanzo's mouth.

Sanzo expected Goku to fall asleep – he was practically asleep himself. But Goku, after he'd come down from his orgasm, stretched. Kissed Sanzo damply and enthusiastically. And ducked down his body, in exploratory fashion, pressing a line of kisses and licks down his stomach in a way that had Sanzo bucking his hips off the bed.

"Mmm," Goku said. "Yum."

Sanzo opened his mouth to say something sarcastic – and over the course of the next ten minutes found himself incapable of anything other than, "Oh _God_."

Which was, he thought after, Goku snuggled up and half-asleep by his side, rather ironic. But, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long drag, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

* * *

"I bet you anything –" Gojyo said confidently, propping himself up on his elbow and looking over at Hakkai, who was playing his usual pre-bed game of Mahjong Solitaire in his richly-embroidered night-robe – "that Princess doesn't get lucky tonight."

Hakkai looked up vaguely from his game. "Hmm?"

"I said, I bet you anything that Princess doesn't get lucky tonight," Gojyo repeated.

Hakkai smiled. He looked younger without his monocle, Gojyo thought, coming over all soppy for a moment. "Anything?" Hakkai said, reminding Gojyo that he was actually an evil bastard and not to be trusted.

"Um, yeah," Gojyo said.

Hakkai turned back to his game, wrinkling his forehead, and removed a pair of tiles. "And if I win, I get 'anything' in return?"

"Um, yeah," Gojyo said, now feeling slightly nervous.

"Bet accepted," Hakkai murmured. "What are your terms?"

"Shouldn't you have checked that before you accepted?" Gojyo bluffed, panicking. What the fuck should he ask for? "What are _your_ terms?"

Hakkai picked off several more pairs of tiles. "Come here and I'll whisper."

Gojyo groaned – but got off his arse anyway, leaning up against Hakkai's side. Hakkai smelled delicious – like fragrant wood burning on a fire.

Hakkai whispered.

Gojyo's eyes bulged. "Kinky," he said, impressed.

"And you?" Hakkai asked, still picking off tiles. "Ah, Mahjong."

"Oh, that'll be fine. I mean – fucking hell, yes please."

Hakkai carefully tidied up the tiles and stowed them in their decorated box. Then he smiled. "Not much point in the bet then, hmm?"

"Oh, I don't know," Gojyo said easily. "There's still the glory of victory."

Hakkai leaned back against Gojyo. "Why do you think His Excellency will fail?" he asked, stifling a yawn. "This Goku seems both determined and infatuated. I don't see how he will fail."

"He's a little jerk," Gojyo said. And then considered this. He laughed. "Maybe you're right. Besides, Princess is enough of a dick to want to boast that he's fucked God, I suppose."

"Ha ha," Hakkai said politely.

"What?" Gojyo said, whacking Hakkai's arm. "It's hilarious. _I'm_ hilarious. Comic genius. You're lucky to be with someone as fantastic and—"

Hakkai moved so swiftly that Gojyo couldn't defend himself.

"I have my thumb on the famous 'death spot'," Hakkai said with a laugh in his voice, his fingers pressing into a point on Gojyo's head. "If I push hard, your brain will explode."

Gojyo kept very still. Sometimes, with Hakkai, it was dangerous to presume that he was joking. "Woah, man. You are kinky tonight. Rather you pressed a bit lower though," he added and, deciding to risk an exploding head, grabbed one of Hakkai's hands and placed it firmly on his crotch.

Hakkai rolled his eyes. "You're just asking to be—"

"Yeah?" Gojyo said, leaning in to shut him up. "Whatever you say, darlin'."

Gojyo's kisses muffled Hakkai's protests – and it wasn't long before he wasn't protesting at all.

* * *

Sanzo woke up feeling dirty, tired, uncomfortable . . . and ridiculously, pathetically happy. He shook Goku off him and sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Wake up, idiot," he said loudly.

Goku jolted awake and blinked at him. "Morning, Sanzo," he mumbled. "I'm asleep." He stretched out one hand and yanked Sanzo back down.

Sanzo wasn't used to being yanked – or any other variations on the theme. Instead of being irritating, he found it strangely pleasing. But still. "You stink," he said sternly. "Shower time."

"Awww, do I have to?" Goku complained, imitating a kind of creeping vine and covering Sanzo with legs and arms.

"Yes," Sanzo said.

Goku made a small bereaved sound – and then shot up, shot into the bathroom, and emerged at the speed of light – dripping wet and smelling of clean. "Now can we—" he started.

"Now _I_ have a shower," Sanzo said sternly. "You can do whatever the hell you like."

When Sanzo emerged, Goku was snuggled up back in bed, in a mound of clean pillows and clean linen. Goku turned back the covers invitingly.

"It's time to get up," Sanzo said.

Goku didn't move – just looked at him wistfully.

Sanzo gave in.

* * *

"Wow," Goku said, from under Sanzo. He sounded tipsy with happiness. "Even if I live another hundred years, nothing'll _ever_ be better than that."

"Tch," Sanzo said, pulling out of Goku carefully and collapsing next to him. Goku automatically snuggled back up to him. "What about next time?"

Goku made a noise that was almost a giggle. "OK. Sorry Sanzo. I'm sure next time'll be better."

Sanzo turned, nose almost against nose, and attempted a glare. "Now you sound like you're insulting me."

"Me?" Goku said innocently. "Nah. Not _me_."

Sanzo turned and tucked Goku up against him, staring at the ceiling. He wanted a smoke, but he couldn't quite be bothered to move just yet. It occurred to him, almost as if in a dream, that he sort of loved the idiot lying next to him – so much that it surprised him.

"Mmmm," Goku mumbled. "I love you too."

Sanzo froze. "You . . . what?"

"I said that I lo—"

"You said _too_ ," Sanzo interrupted. " _Too_. Can you still _read my thoughts_?"

Goku nodded.

Sanzo stared at him. "You . . . I . . ."

"Only joking!" Goku said, grinning ear to ear.

Sanzo stared at him at bit more.

"Awww, come on Sanzo. How could I do that? I'm not _really_ a god, even though I'm pretty awesome, even if I do say so mysel— Arghhh! Stop it! Mercy!"

Sanzo didn't provide mercy; he continued beating Goku around the head with his pillow, until he found himself reluctantly laughing – and then laughing rather less reluctantly.

"Do that again and I'll shoot you," he said.

"Yeah," Goku said, still grinning.

"But . . ." Sanzo said, reaching for a cigarette, and finding himself unable to say what he wanted to say out loud.

"How did I know what you were thinking?" Goku said.

Sanzo shot him a warning look. "Yes."

Goku's grin got even wider – and then softened. He grabbed hold of one of Sanzo's hands and placed it on his chest.

Sanzo had a feeling that what came out of Goku's mouth next would be the sort of embarrassing thing that kept a man awake in the middle of the night.

"You're in here, Sanzo. I don't need to be in your head to know what you're thinkin'. I just _know_." His lips quirked a little anxiously. "Because I love you. An' – an' because you love me too." His expression was hopeful.

Sanzo thought, with some relief, that Goku didn't feel quite as sure about the contents of his brain as he was pretending. But he wasn't an ass; there was no point in denying something that was true, just to make a point. "Tch," he said, and lit up his neglected cigarette.

"Don't you worry about setting the sheets on fire?" Goku asked after a beat, evidently satisfied by Sanzo's silence.

Sanzo whacked him round the head. "Moron," he said.

"Yeah," Goku said, and he snuggled in even closer, falling asleep again as Sanzo finished his cigarette and lit up another, his spare hand moving down to stroke through Goku's hair.

He took a drag and stared contemplatively at the wall, twitching slightly as he thought about what the future had in store: endless embarrassment, he suspected. Poor-taste jokes from Gojyo and an awful, kind, understanding from Hakkai.

A barely house-trained 'God' and a . . . a cranky royal holy man, who'd never felt particularly royal or holy at all. Sanzo blew out the smoke and was struck by a particularly dreadful cliché: it was a match made in heaven. He snorted. Like fuck it was. But he supposed things could have turned out worse.


End file.
